The tide rose and fell, drowning the tidal flats along the shore and washing over callused soles. Putun warriors stood by the sea, raising shields and long spears high, letting out bursts of beastly roars and wolfish howls.
Yet amid their demonstrations and intimidation, the seven invading longships once again drew near, gradually approaching the coast. Dozens of canoes gathered once more, and the tribal warriors aboard raised their javelins, ready at any moment to fight.
On the shore, Moqi, chief of the Short Spear tribe, wore wooden armor, a bright feathered crown on his head and seven thick, short javelins on his back. He stood at the center of the tribal warriors, observing the invaders on the sea. Beside him were over a hundred tribal warriors clad in wooden armor, each with javelins likewise strapped to their backs.
The Short Spear tribe was the strongest of the several large tribes among the Putun of the great grasslands. They occupied the open grass by the sea and the fertile lower reaches of the Big Grass River, taking their name from the "short spears" they hurled. Most of the tribal fighters were skilled at throwing javelins and darts, especially the elite tribal warriors, who could even hit a running wild deer.
"Hm? This is..."
Chief Moqi narrowed his eyes, looking toward the kingdom's fleet by the sea. The fleet drew closer for a while, then stopped again. Then a small dugout boat was lowered from one of the large ships. Two sailors rowed the boat toward the crowd at the river mouth. Standing in the boat was a foreign priest in a feathered crown and white robe, holding a book, and a Maya commoner with an elongated head but no facial tattoos.
"May the gods witness! Esteemed Putun chief across the